


Two Truths & A Lie

by GirlwithCurls98



Series: The Misadventures of Maggie Marigold [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Hopeful Ending, Kidnapping, No Dungeons & Dragons Knowledge Required, Religious Conflict, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29771502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlwithCurls98/pseuds/GirlwithCurls98
Summary: Maggie Marigold has been kidnapped after taking on a dangerous contract alone. While her friends race to find her and her captors prepare to transfer her soul to a weaponized warforged, Maggie considers how she got here. In the aftermath,  Maggie prays to the Raven Queen and gains a bit of perspective.
Series: The Misadventures of Maggie Marigold [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923940
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Two Truths & A Lie

**Author's Note:**

> All of the characters are OCs from a personal D&D game; the Raven Queen is loosely based on Matthew Mercer's interpretation from the first campaign of Critical Role.

Maggie Marigold wasn’t a liar. She figured that since most people lie to everyone because they assume that everyone else is lying to them- she might as well tell the truth because they probably wouldn’t believe her anyway. The truth was also much easier to remember, which left room in her head for more important things, like how many stitches it took to make a handkerchief, or what her friends liked to buy at sweetshops, or the last words of every soul she had helped across the veil. 

This was not to say that she refused to lie. It was often necessary. As children, the triplets did nearly everything together, including indulging in various forms of mischief. It went unspoken that they would all stick to the same story, no matter how ridiculous that story might be. Even now, if Charlie and Josie asked, Maggie would gladly stand outside and swear that the sky was green instead of blue. 

This was also not to say that she was a poor liar. Deception was a useful tool and like any tool used in her work, she’d honed her skill until it could be done effortlessly. Confidence was key in all things; oftentimes the first person that needed to be deceived was yourself. 

So while she was an accomplished liar and understood the value of such falsehoods, Maggie wasn’t a liar. Not in her mind, anyway. Minus a few rare exceptions, she believed that truth simply depended on your perspective. 

And from Maggie’s current perspective: dizzy from blood loss, suspended in the air by magical restraints, and staring up at old wooden rafters coated in dusty cobwebs, telling the truth seemed far more valuable. If only she had told the truth, then she probably wouldn’t be in this mess. But no, she just had to lie to the High Priestess. The one who’d welcomed her to Destiny’s Web with open arms and trusted her enough to specifically request her for this crucial mission. 

_ Geez, lying right to the High Priestess when she takes a chance on you. At this rate, you can forget about becoming a Priori.  _

__ Don’t say that, we never know where our path might lead. Only the Matron has that power. 

_ Our Lady holds the thread of destiny, but if you aren’t careful, you’re gonna hang yourself with it.  _

Yes, she could admit that she wouldn’t be in this mess if she’d been honest with the High Priestess or if she’d been honest with herself. She’d told Priestess Astara that she would meet up with a friend in Relitica for support and she’d told herself that she could easily complete this mission on her own. Foolish. Reckless. 

Because it didn’t matter that she felt unstoppable when she invoked the divine power of the Raven Queen. It didn’t matter that the radiant energy through her veins made her feel taller than a Butternut tree or strong and bright like the molten steel used to forge the very mace she wielded in her Lady’s name. 

None of that mattered. The reality was that she was only three feet tall and there were many, many creatures stronger than her. She could be confident, she could be clever, and she was often underestimated- but that didn’t matter when she was outnumbered and ambushed. The only consolation was that she’d put up one hell of a fight before they finally overpowered her. 

_ And? You still lost.  _

__ We didn’t lose. I’m not dead, that’s all that matters. 

_ Please raise your standards.  _

__ We’re fine, everything’s fine. 

There she went, lying to herself again. Everything was not fine. She’d lied to her High Priestess, she’d lied to herself, and she’d lied to her friends. And she’d done it in the worst way possible- not by simply telling a lie but by concealing the truth. Basically the same thing, but the latter felt so much worse. She knew that they were always supposed to work together, so why had she gone off on her own? It was foolish and reckless and stupid and she should’ve known better. She’d made this mistake before, that’s how stupid it was. 

What’d she think was going to happen? She was supposed to be better than this, if not for herself than for the team. and isn’t that why she’d joined the Kindered Oblivion in the first place? So she didn’t have to be on her own anymore?

_ No. That wasn’t the reason.  _

She sighed, glancing down towards the scar on her forearm. Her scar. She had to stop detaching what she’d done from the consequences of doing it. It served its purpose- a permanent reminder of her cowardice and carelessness. 

_ Don’t be silly. Death is permanent. Everything else fades in time.  _

__ That’s a matter of perspective. 

_ Then I guess it’s the truth.  _

* * *

Maggie loved being a cleric. She loved the fact that her job wasn’t really a job, but an endless outpouring of devotion, admiration, and wonder. She’d been in Her service for nearly a decade, but her love and commitment was just as strong as it had been the moment the Raven Queen first appeared to her, if not stronger. It wasn’t a job, it was a calling. And she loved it with all her heart. 

Which was good, because otherwise she probably wouldn’t have been able to deal with the more annoying aspects of her chosen occupation. Like the fact that being a cleric meant someone could stab her with her own dagger and not even have the common decency to kill her in the process. 

It was ironic, to be sure. She doubted that when the leaders of so many faiths came together and developed magic to make it impossible to kill a cleric with their own holy weapon, they realized that they were also creating the easiest and most effective form of torture against those they’d sworn to protect. 

And to add insult to literal injury, these people that had ambushed her had done so under the impression that her soul was ‘clean’, and could be used to fuel their mechanical monster. Maggie wasn’t ‘clean’. And she definitely wasn’t ‘pure’, but it wasn’t like that bothered her. Life was messy by nature. It was one of her favorite things about being a mortal. 

She never understood why so many assumed that clerics, of any faith, could be exempt from life’s untidiness. Then again, so many also assumed that the Raven Queen was a merciless executioner, bringing untimely death with a wave of her icy hand. They considered it bad luck to speak of Her, or only did so in a whisper, as if the noise might make it easier for death to find them. 

Maggie had never understood that, either. Not after she’d spent so many nights wrapped in the comforting presence of her Lady as she prayed by the golden glow of candles within the Temple. It saddened her, really, to think that so many in the world saw death as a heartless void and not a warm embrace. 

But if the Kindered Oblivion had taught her anything- there were a great many things she did not yet understand. It could be frustrating at times, especially when everyone else seemed so mature and experienced. Even Thaerelle, though they were practically the same age! Maybe time moves differently in the Underdark? She’d have to ask, assuming she’d get the chance. 

Her breath caught in her throat and she stared up at the ceiling, trying to count the dust particles as they floated lazily through the air. She hadn’t let herself think about that yet. Her vision became cloudy and she blinked back the tears that started to form and streak down her face. 

Wait. No, it wasn’t the tears. And she wasn’t imagining it, the air above her  _ was _ distorted in that familiar way. A scry spell. A sob burst from her chest but a smile bloomed across her face as she called to her friends for help. Even though she was floating in the air, it still felt like she’d been relieved of a massive weight. 

Unfortunately, the relief did not come alone. There was dread too, more painful than the dagger in her chest. There were a great many things that her friends did not understand because she had deliberately been concealing them. Things that she’d cloaked in shadow would inevitably be brought to light. 

And with the relief, with the dread, there also came new clarity. She’d often hated the old saying, “ignorance is bliss”. It was maddening; who didn’t like to learn new things? But now she understood. 

Ignorance was bliss when you were the one with something to hide. 

* * *

Maggie winced as she knelt in front of the Raven Queen’s altar. She’d spent countless hours kneeling on the polished stone floor with no issues, but this night her knees were hurting something fierce. 

Actually, everything hurt. High Priestess Astara had healed her open wounds, especially removing the dagger from her sternum, but she’d left the minor scrapes and bruises alone, at Maggie’s request. Pain could be a powerful teacher, followed closely by regret. It made her feel better knowing that she’d suffered some form of consequence after needing to be rescued. 

She was sore, hungry, and hadn’t slept more than two hours out of the last forty-eight, but she couldn’t care less right now. None of that mattered as she gazed up at the giant stone wings that seemed to envelop the sanctuary. She snuck a quick glance over her shoulder, catching a faint glimpse of blue in a dark corner. 

Glacia had asked to come with her into the Temple, but had wandered off when they entered, understandably wanting some privacy. Maggie understood; she’d been self-conscious about praying her first time too. Much as she wanted to help, it was important for Glacia to do this on her own. There’d be plenty of opportunities to show her the extent of the Lady’s magic. 

But first things first. Her robes were a lost cause, easy enough to tear three strips away from the tattered black fabric. Two she set aside, the other was used to cover the scar on her arm. she fussed with the wrapping and the knot until she had to yank her mind back to the matter at hand. Focus. Enough stalling. 

A deep breath: inhaling like she’d just come up from the depths of the sea and was desperate for air, then exhaling like she was tending the tiniest flame and she couldn’t blow it out. Again, another breath. And again. She closed her eyes, folded her hands in her lap, and ducked her head until her chin touched her chest, mere inches above where she’d been impaled. 

“Matron of Ravens, I apologize for my weakness. I made a choice carelessly, and was nearly taken from my duties. Nearly taken from You, my soul imprisoned in a machine and forever denied the chance to rest at Your side.” 

As she continued to pray, the formalities started to peel away, leaving only raw emotions in their place. Her face burned and tears began to form. This was not the first time she’d cried during her prayers, but it had never felt like this before. 

“They say pride comes before a fall. I guess I fell pretty hard. I’ve been trying to understand it but I can’t help becoming frustrated. I wasn’t gifted with enormous strength or size, but I know that I was blessed with the perfect abilities to act in Your name, my Lady. There’s so much I want to do in your service, but I’ve seen now that I must be patient. You told me that experience strengthens faith…” 

She paused, biting the inside of her cheek as she worked up the strength to admit what she knew was true, the real reason she needed to apologize. 

“...but I must wait for the opportunities to present themselves. I’m so sorry that I chased after danger without thinking of my safety or the feelings of those who care for me.”

_ And not just the team.  _ She reminded herself.  _ Did you even think about Josie and Charlie? Or Mom and Dad? They’dve been sick with worry if they’d known.  _

__ “As Your loyal cleric, I vow that I will not make the same mistake again, my Lady. I know that I must do better. So I will do better.”

She knelt silently now, listening. She could’ve said more, almost wanted to say more, but sometimes it was better to just let the silence do the talking. The Matron would understand. She always did. 

Indeed, in the silence and shifting shadows of the sanctuary, she watched a vision play out in her mind’s eye. She saw a baby bird with sunset colored feathers wobbling on the edge of its nest before launching into the air. It flapped its wings and tried very hard and still fell gracelessly onto the ground. The baby bird looked around, frightened and alone, until the mother bird swooped down and rescued the fallen chick, bringing it back to the nest. 

Maggie opened her eyes and looked up at the wings. They were mesmerizing; every detail of the carving was amplified in the dozens of flickering candles. She felt the wings wrapping around her small form, a reminder that she was ever loved, ever safe within Her sight. She’d fallen out of the nest, yes. But that didn’t mean she would never learn to fly. 

“Thank you, my Lady.” She whispered, slicing the palms of both hands with her dagger. The rivulets of blood streaked down her fingers, a physical manifestation of her overflowing gratitude. 

At the sound of footsteps behind her, she hastily wrapped up both wounds in the cloth she’d torn from her robes. Now, on top of everything else, her hands hurt too. But as Glacia knelt beside her, as she looked up into the tiefling’s eyes and smiled, she knew that the pain was incomparable to what she’d caused them with her mistake. 

Later, as they all left the Temple and trudged back to the guildhouse, everyone was too lost in thought to speak. They’d graciously accepted her apology, but the words meant nothing until she could fulfill them. And as they walked, Maggie decided that pain, like truth, simply depends on one’s perspective. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments feed the Mighty Muse and are always appreciated, especially on something like this that is entirely original.


End file.
